


Help for Hauntings

by Ninjathrowingstork



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Gen, Jake and Klaus have the same chaotic energy, Jake is totally a little bi, Klaus finds something useful for his skills, The crossover no one expected, except the discord, the discord made me do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 01:27:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18201641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninjathrowingstork/pseuds/Ninjathrowingstork
Summary: When a junkie gets picked up by the 99th precinct, no one expected the wild, skinny man could actually see ghosts. Which, it turns out, is a useful skill to have around a police station.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's over 4k words of pure crack, but like, the legal kind. The idea, and Reno 911 scene I blatantly ripped off for the cold open came from the discord.  
> It's the first time I've tried writing the B99 characters, so I don't know if I got their voices right, and it's hard juggling so many characters when I just want to get this written so the story stops bothering me, but it's done and 100% not serious (sorry, Amy)  
> This is what I do when I'm procrastinating on writing stuff for my MA course. 
> 
> See the end for more notes.

“Sarge, it’s 9:30 in the morning, how is this guy already totally drunk?”

 “I don’t know, Peralta, he probably started last night and didn’t stop until one of the guys picked him up on . . . let’s see that file. Ah, ‘public intoxication, possession, and,’ I can’t believe this, ‘solicitation’ and the night shift said he’s also our best lead so far on that new distribution network the Captain’s been on us to track down.”

 “Geeze, but why do I-”

 Shoving the file at the detective, Sergeant Terry Jeffords left the mess behind him and washed his hands of the case. “Just book him and toss him in the tank to sober up before the Captain gets out of his meeting, Peralta!”

 With a sigh, Jake surveyed the subject of his current case, who currently resembled a writhing ball of limbs on the seat by his desk. The man was obviously drunk, and high as two and a half kites probably, yanking obsessively at the cuffs around his skinny wrists. He’d probably be slightly taller than Jake once he was unchained from the side of the desk and standing upright, but almost disturbingly thin and _strangely super attractive (what the hell, Peralta?)_ Sliding down in his own seat, he opened the file and reached for a pen to start filling in details, conferring with the records on the computer in front of him that details a laundry list of prior arrests .

 “Ok, name?”

 “Wha- heh, wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Listen buddy, the faster we get this done the faster you can go back to the nice, cozy cells and sleep off. . . whatever junk you took, cool? And could you just. . . sit still for like, two minutes? You’re making me dizzy, man.”

 The skinny figure, who’d somehow gotten one ripped-black-jean covered leg hooked over the backrest as he appeared to be tugging at the metal loop on the desk finally stilled, and in one fluid, albeit a curiously non-Newtonian and indecisive fluid motion, slid back into a more conventional seated position, slumped in the seat. A mess of dark, curly hair that mirrored the bedraggled fur trim on his patchwork coat framed a pale, pointed face with a pair of bright hazel eyes ringed by dark smudges and darker lashes peering out at him, and his sharp smirk was ringed by a small, elegant goatee. Well, it wouldn’t be the first weirdly hot perp they’d had there.

 “Fine, what’d’ya wanna know?” He might be sitting up, but the man kept yanking persistantly at the cuffs.

 “First, what’s your name, smart guy?”

 “Klaus Hargreeves, spelled ‘y-o-u-s-u-c-k’”

 “Wowwww, that’s a first for that. Not. And birthdate.”

 “October first, 1989, the same as all my siblings.” The yanking got more frantic.

 “How - yeah, keep trying that, you’re not gonna get out of them”

 The man - Klaus - had slid his chair over to the desk and started slamming the chain of the cuffs into the edge, each swing flailing more and more. Somehow he’d already detached the chain from the ring and was half out of his seat by then.

 “Yeah, do it . Try.”

 In a nigh-acrobatic feat, he’d contorted himself to get one foot up between his hands, kicking out at the short chain. With one smooth motion he’d flipped himself out of the chair, and face down on the floor.

 “They’ll. . . never. . . make. . . a pair of handcuffs. . .that can hold me!” Between gasped out words he’d rolled over and started kicking out with his free leg, worming his way across the floor until he’d kicked the computer off Amy’s desk.

 “Jake!”

 “I know, look at him go! I bet you ten bucks he can make it out of those things. Boyle?”

 “Yeah Jake, I got ten bucks. You wanna get in on this Rosa?”

 “Hey I’ve got five.”

 “I say no, this is stupid. Jake, quick, get him off the floor before Captain Holt sees this!” Amy, ever the voice of reason.

 By then the frantic figure had climbed up onto the windowsill clinging to the shelves with one bony leg, banging the chain against the wooden window trim, then the shelves, before sliding clumsily back down into a sprawl on the floor surrounded by a shower of scattered files and binders.

 “Eh, I’ll take that action. C’mon, cuffs!!!”

 “What’re you doing???”  Rosa had joined the growing circle of detectives in the middle of the floor. Having given up on the window, the would-be-escapee had resorted to banging the handcuffs into the edge of a metal filing cabinet. A moment late, and he’d managed to worm his way back over to the desk, getting his legs back up over Jake’s now empty chair, and the cuffs over the corner of the metal filing cabinet, he began to do pull-ups as though his slight weight could snap the cuffs. After only a few reps, the chain slid free and dumped the writhing figure back onto the floor.

 “C’mon, handcuffs, woo!” Gina had finally put down her phone and deigned to take notice of what was unfolding.

 With a roll and a snakelike writhe, Klaus had found his feet again, and, raising his bound hands above his head with a shake, started trying to kick at them with a flexibility that would make a Rockette proud. Two, three kicks, and his legs gave out under him, once more landing him in an awkward sprawl on the floor.

 “Awwwww!” came the chorus of groans from the bullpen. The little scene had everyone’s attention at this point, bystanders in the poorly-executed-but-valiant escape attempt. Even Amy, disapproving at first, had gotten into the spirit.

 “Goooo!!!!” Even the Sarge had gotten into the spirit of things.

 “C’mon boy, you can do it!” from Boyle, crouching down to one side.

 “C’mon handcuffs!”

 “Go, go go!”

 The would-be escapee had once again struggled to his feet, twisting his hands around like he was performing some arcane spell.

 “Wooooo!!!!”

 “Go! Go! Go! Go!”

 With a final twist, the cuffs fell free and the room broke into cheers and applause. In one smooth motion, Rosa stepped forward and jabbed the man in the side with her stun gun, and Klaus dropped bonelessly to the floor in an improbably acrobatic position.

 At that moment, Captain Holt finally swung his office door open, calmly surveying the scene of recent chaos before stoically stepping across the prone body and crisply scooping the pair of discarded cuffs off the floor. “Made in America, dammit.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later that afternoon. . .

The earlier fracas had been cleared away, the only signs remaining were a new, sturdier ring bolted to the side of Detective Peralta’s desk and the dark-haired figure grinning out at them all from inside the cells at the back. It’d been under an hour before Klaus had revived, but it’d taken the better part of the morning for him to to sober up and come down from whatever high he’d been on the night previously . . . before he’d fished a couple of pills out from who-knew-where, and, before Terry could get the door open and scoop the bony man off the floor with barely a flex of his shoulders, tossed them down dry with a mad cackle.

“Dammit! We needed his statement about his supplier to get the next stage in this network. Terry was just too slow, man.”

“It’s ok, Sarge. It’s not like he’s gonna go anywhere for now. At least this way the guy probably won’t mind the beast of a hangover he’s gonna have later”

And it was true, the man had gone totally boneless again, but this time he was still conscious and giggling quietly in the sargeant’s arms. With a glare and a “hmph” he let Klaus slide back down onto the cell’s narrow bench.

Now, he had rolled to sit with his nose pressed against the wire-covered window, staring out across the bullpen with a crooked grin that flashed against the darkness of his facial hair. He’d shucked off the voluminous dark coat he’d arrived wrapped in, and with his arms bared and supporting his head, the image of an inked umbrella could be made out on his left wrist. That design had rung distant bells in the depths of his memory, but there’d been no time to track down its meaning and it had been added to his file already, along with the words “Hello” and “Goodbye” scrawled in dark lines across his palms. Aside from the grin that was visibly unnerving Terry, he’d made no fuss since that morning.

"Ok, I don’t get it.” The detectives were all slouching around their desks in the middle of the room. Someone had dragged the rolling board to the center, and Jake had pinned a portrait of a round-faced man with an impressive orange mustache to the center, and directly below it a photo of that same man, now facedown in a puddle of his own blood. “Our vic was killed over the weekend in the middle of his locked penthouse apartment, with no signs of struggle. The doors were all secured from the inside and he wasn’t found until this morning when the cleaning lady showed up.”

“Presumably to dust, Jake.”

“What’s that, Boyle?”

“Because, it was a Monday, and I checked the company records and she comes every Monday to dust Mr. Phillips’ place.

“Ok, thank you for that, Charles. Rosa?”

“Well, the techs dusted the place, and didn’t find any prints other than our vic’s and there’s no sign of the murder weapon.”

“I’ve already gone through his entire address book, and aside from a former business partner who he’s still friends with, there’s no one close to him in the city. He’s never married and just has nieces and nephews, particularly one who-”

“Ah HA! It’s the mistress, he had one, right, Ames?

“Uuuhhhhh, no, not that we’ve found yet-”

“-And the place was locked from the inside, the security company said” Rosa interrupted, perched on the back of a chair by Amy’s desk.

“Oh my god, I love these!” There was a dangerous grin spreading across the gangly detective’s face. “We have, ladies and gentlemen, a locked room mystery! Our vic died on in his penthouse apartment on the fourteenth story with the doors locked from the inside, and only the windows open to the balcony outside. That means-”

“Jake, no-”

“I swear Peralta, if you say-”

“Our killer pulled a Die Hard! He tied something around the railing, swung down into the apartment beneath, and then pulled the rope down behind himself!” He was almost bouncing with excitement by then, which was quickly killed by a glaring Amy.

“Those windows don’t open, Jake.”

“Whaaaaaaaaaat?”

“Hey guys, I remember this story one of my cousins told me about a time when-” Boyle’s story was cut off by a distant thumping, that turned out to be the all-but-forgotten man still locked in the holding cells.

“Hey, quiet down in there!” Terry strode out of the break room, yogurt cup in hand just in time to shout down the now excited Klaus who’d begun pounding on the window with his palms.

“No, hey, hey! If you’re trying to find who killed that dude, I could just ask him for you, he’s standing right there!” He pointed wildly at the corner by the door to the balcony. “Yeah, big fellah’, he’s got four, no, five stab wounds in his back? Right?”

The four detectives all looked from one to another questioningly.

“Hey Steve McQueen, we’re trying to solve an actual murder out here, so if you could not try to escape-”

“No, for real, I can see ghosts, look.” And he plastered his palms against the window again, showing off the writing. “I’m like a human Ouija board, ghosts talk to me, have done since I was a kid. Gimme something to eat and I’ll get him to tell me who did said foul deed.” He grinned ghoulishly at them.

“Hey Sarge, keys?”

“Jake, why are you-”

“Don’t worry, just wanna talk to this guy.”

Catching the keys as he passed Terry’s desk, he unlocked and swung the door open to confront the skinny junkie inside. “So, you say you can talk to ghosts, _right._ ”

With a ridiculous grin and eyes still sparkling through the haze of whatever he’d taken, Klaus sprawled back along the bench on top of his coat. “Yeaahhh, unfortunately for me, but today’s your lucky day. If you don’t know what this means,” he held up the tattooed umbrella on his forearm, “you won’t know me or believe what I can do. . .” he trailed off for a moment, “so that’s why I gave you that juicy little detail that wasn’t in the pictures you’ve so kindly tacked up for me.”

“Ok, you can help but-”

Klaus had rolled to his feet again smoothly, tugging his shirt straight futilely, since it was too short for his long body anyway, and could almost pass for sober compared to that morning. “There’s just one catch, though.”

There was _always_  a catch, Jake remembered, rolling his eyes. “Fine, what is is?”

“I. . . am still suuuuper high right now, and unfortunately the ghost whispering machine is out of order until I’m all dried out. I can see his lateness, but that’s it for now.”

“Well, we can wait for you for that, vic’s not getting any more dead.” And he turned to leave.

“Wait!” The shutting door stopped for a moment. “I’m gonna crash so hard when I come down, and I already have the advance guard of my hangover sounding their presence behind my eyes, so it’ll reallllyyy smooth out the process if, you know, you just cuffed me down to a nice comfy chair somewhere and got me something to eat in the meantime?”

Jake could have sworn that the tall, skinny man batted those giant eyes at him then, and it took him a moment to find a response. “You-you already broke out of one set of cuffs this morning, why’d you think we’d let you try that on another one?”

Dropping back onto the coat-covered-bench and gesturing at himself dramatically, Klaus gazed mournfully up at him. “Just look at me, do I look like I’m capable of two feats of superhuman strength in one day? That’s my brother’s department, I just see ghosts and spirits, which I prefer in bottles. C’mon, I’ll be good, Scout’s honor,” and he crossed his heart in what the detective was positive wasn’t a recognized scouting salute.

“Ok, fine, we’ll try it your way.” Leaning outside the cells, he shouted back at the gathered detectives “hey guys, we’re gonna need three more sets of cuffs over here!”

An hour later, and Klaus was back in the chair he’d started the day in, but this time only his left wrist was cuffed to Detective Santiago’s desk, and his left ankle to Peralta’s. His right ankle was likewise cuffed to the leg of the chair leaving his right arm free to poke at the tupperware perched on his lap with a plastic fork.

“Mmm, so- so you said you did something special to these mushrooms?”

“That’s right, Mr. Ha-”

“Klaus,” Klaus grinned around a mouthful of something. “Mr. Hargreeves is the dickwad who pretended he raised me.”

“Oh, hey, more daddy issues around here.”

“Quiet, Jake, our guest and I are having a culinary conversation now.

Boyle was in his element. They’d cuffed the man to the chair and started him on black coffee, but one thing led to another and it’d turned into a Boyle-directed food tasting session that both men were thoroughly enjoying. “That’s right, Klaus, you have to only liiightly saute the porcini mushrooms, and it really only works if you use the ones from the little old Russian grandmother who taught me this, but she recommended yak’s butter and they’re cooked with a splash of the vodka she distills herself in-”

“It’s amazing, and what’re these?” He poked curiously at the fried cubes in one corner.

“Those are fried tofu. I used to make this with artisan buffalo mozzarella, but a man has to start looking after the state of his arteries at a certain age, and now I have a son myself to worry about. What would poor little Nic-”

“Boyle, just let him eat, I gotta know what he can tell us about who the perp is.”

“Why are we even doing this, Jake? It’s totally against protocol to let a suspect out to help-” Amy sat at her desk, clinging to a sense of normalcy in the bizarre world the day had slid into.

“And I don’t know if I’ll be eat for a week after hearing Boyle describe food for so long,” chimed in Rosa.

“Hey, I’ll eat your food for you!”

“Yeah, that’s great, shut up Scully. Anyway, any more sober now? It’s been an hour, and it’s starting to get late here.”

“Yeah,” Amy leaned around him to grab the container of food off his skinny lap. “You’re only out here right now because you said you can help us, and,” she shot a look at Jake, “Detective Peralta has more curiosity than good sense sometimes. I still the nephew looks good, the one who-”

“Sorry, Amy, I agree with Jake that it seems unlikely.”

With a mournful look at the departing food, and then another at the empty corner, he silently nodded in agreement. “Ok, fine, I’m gonna need a pen and paper for this.” He’d barely gotten the words out when Amy was shoving a notepad and pen at him, which he took with his free hand. “All right, big dude,” he directed at the empty corner. “I can see you over there, you know. These fine people need a word with you and since they’ve been so kind as to feed me already now it’s your turn to step up, ok, amigo?” The phantom must have answered, since a moment later he started scribbling something on the yellow legal pad. He wrote until he’d filled the whole thing before clicking the pen shut and tossing it back at Amy, who scooped it up and started reading eagerly. Silently the others all crowded around her chair, even drawing terry and Gina from their desks. There was a moment of quiet as they all read what Klaus had scribbled down, then Jake suddenly straightened up.

“Oh my goddddd, it WAS the nephew! Wait until Holt hears how he did it! Heeeyy, Captain, there you are!”

Their captain had just stepped out of the elevator and was striding purposefully across the bullpen towards the gathered detectives and the seated man. “Peralta, Santiago, why is this man out of the holding cells and cuffed to your desks? What are you all doing with him?”

The long, awkward pause was finally broken by Amy clearing her throat. “Uh, Captain, you see we got this lead and-”

“Hot junkie guy from this morning can see ghosts, Cap. We got him dried out enough to commune with the ghost of our vic, so now we have the killer. Or a solid lead depending on how much we believe the guy,” the lanky detective gave a giant grin back at Holt.

There was a moment of silence as the other man’s already impassive grew imperceptibly more stoic. “‘Ghosts’, Peralta? I thought you were too old to believe in those anymore. Take this man’s statement on the drug ring, and then either finish processing him or send him back to holding until-”

“Yeah, I know, dad. Send me back to my room without supper.” With a rattle of cuffs falling away, Klaus had kicked off the last of the restraints and swayed to his feet, giving a wave before turning to head back to the cells in the back.

The first to make a move at him was Rosa, “hey you, come back-” she lunged for him, but he swayed away from her grasp.

“What-”

“Again? How did you-”

Turning on a dime, their would-be prisoner held up the plastic fork he’d been eating with minutes before, now with two tines missing. “Good detectives, I picked the locks this time with the tool you all kindly provided me, so this time no handcuffs or furniture were harmed in my escape. Detective Santiago,” he gave a low, flourishing bow that only slightly wobbled, “I do apologize for any damage I did to your computer this morning.” Again, he turned to saunter back to the cell, but this time he was caught between Jake and Rosa, and frog-marched back to the captain.

“Did you just call our captain ‘dad’? I’m the only one allowed to do that here.”

“No, no Jacob. Don’t you recognize your brother?”

“Cap- ooHHH!” His eyes lit up, suddenly understanding where this was going.

“Son- what’s your name again?”

“Klaus,” Klaus answered for the second time that day.

“Klaus, this is your brother Jacob, you two get along now. Peralta, you look after your brother, you hear? Keep an eye on him and get his statement about the drug ring, I got a call that he’s got someone coming to bail him out later.” And with that, Raymond Holt turned and disappeared into his office.

With a shove, Rosa pushed the bony, black-clad man at Jake before stalking back to her own desk.

Letting his momentum carry him, Klaus half fell, half lunged at Jake, pulling him into an awkward hug. “Jacob, shalom! It feels like it’s been forever!”

Pushing him away, the detective extricated himself from the man’s arms and directed him back to the chair by his desk once again. “Sit down, ‘bro’, this precinct isn’t big enough for both of our daddy issues. And give me my badge back!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone catch the almost-a-Misfits-reference in there?  
> And yes, that's the Scott Pilgrim line I totally used in there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Diego meets Rosa, and Klaus gets a job offer.

An hour later, the paperwork was all filed and the two men were both stretched out in their chairs at the detective’s desk in the mostly-empty precinct. “Man, your dad sounds like a total dick. Yeah, Holt can be a total robot sometimes, but he’s still a great captain. I practically slammed into him in the elevator that time I did the FBP and he wasn’t even mad at me.”

“Who or what is an FBP?”

“Oh, dude, the Full Bullpen is when you slide in your socks, and a riot helmet because safety first, all the way from the Captain’s office across to the elevator. They’d just waxed the floors and we’d all been on night shift for weeks so we were all going a little crazy,so I made it allll the way in, but the elevator opened and I totally couldn’t stop. Thought I’d be fired and out on the curb  selling my body for gas money and. . . ohhhhhh, yeah, one of the charges you were picked up on was solicitation, so I prooobably shouldn’t say that. . .” he trailed off with a grimace.

Klaus leaned back in the chair, grinning crookedly at him and lacing his fingers behind his head. “S’ok, happens to the best of us, and I’d have made sure you were ok out there in the cold cold world. Anyway, cool story, but I can definitely top that.”

“Bro I love you, but you’ve never once topped in your life.” 

The reactions to a man suddenly showing up, dressed all in black and wearing a strange leather harness full of knives were simultaneous. 

“WOAHHH, WHO’S THAT??”

“DIEGO!!!”

“Hey, Klaus, Patch told me you got picked up again. Detective Eudora Patch, uptown,” he explained to Jake as he extricated himself from where he’d managed to tip his desk chair over in surprise. “She’s a . . . friend of mine, and she’s got Klaus’s file flagged to ping her if he gets picked up, as a favor”

“Patch, yeah, I think I’ve heard of her, she’s at the-”

“Yeah”

“Anyway, we, um. . . “

“They were totally a thing way back when,” provided Klaus, helpfully. 

“Uh, yeah. Anyway, thanks for keeping an eye on him, I know my brother, so I hope he wasn’t too much trouble for you.”

“Ha, you should have seen him this morn-”

“No, your brother was no problem at all, sir,” jumped in Amy. “He was a huge help in a current investigation, and another one he wasn’t even a part of, and we’re not even charging him for destruction of property for the pair of handcuffs he managed to break, he was so helpful.”

“Hey, Amy, what’re you doing?” he leaned across their desks to stage whisper. 

“He’s already helped us with the biggest break in the drug ring we’ve had so far, plus we finally have a breakthrough in the homicide case that we wouldn’t have without him,” she shot back. “I know it’s totally not by the book, but he could be a huge help to the department if we kept him around . . . unofficially officially. I looked up his family, Jake, and. . .” she slid a printout across to him, side-eying their guests by the desks. 

Jake looked at the sheet of paper she’d handed him, then up to the two men. 

Back down at the paper. 

Back to the two figures. 

“Oh. My. GooodddDDDDD! Your name, the tattoo, you’re-”

“Yep,” Diego responded with a grimace, speaking for both of them since his brother had slid down in the chair while leaning back over the low backrest dramatically, both hands covering his face. “That’s us. So you can understand why we-”

“Oh absolutely, there’ll be no press on this at all.”

“And we might have other cases where his. . .unique skills would be of great help, provided our Captain ok’s it.”

“Wait, you mean,” Diego broke off, laughing skeptically, pointing to the seated Klaus. 

“It’s not something normal-”

“What’s going on over here?” Rosa had appeared behind Diego, and was eyeing over his vigilante gear curiously. “You got a permit for all those?”   
“Yes, I do in fact and it’s more than just a sheet of paper saying ‘I do what I want,’ now that- WOAH!”

Seemingly out of nowhere, she’d pulled out her massive saw-backed dagger, brandishing it casually. “‘Cause I like knives, too.” 

“Heyyyyy, Rosa,” Jake jumped in, “meet Diego, Klaus’s brother. Why don’t you get his number in case, you know, anyone here wants to get a hold of him later. For totally official purposes.”

Not breaking eye contact from where the two were squared up, the dark-haired detective nodded in agreement “yeah, sure. Official purposes.” 

For a moment, there was a tense silence over the small group, before Amy broke it, slamming shut the binder in front of her. “Well, that’s that done for the day. Jake, why don’t you get our guest here signed out so we can all go home?”

“Oh, yeah. Here you go Mr., um, Diego,” he slid an open file and a pen across the desk, where the other man , finally breaking the stare down with Rosa, leaned around his brother to scribble a messy signature. “Yeah, there, and there and there.” Once he was done, the detective plucked the file up, flipping it shut and tossing it into a pile on his desk, no looking where it landed. “And now he’s all yours to go, bro.”

“Uh, actually,” Klaus shot a skinny arm up, cutting him off as he unfolded himself from the chair, “if I’m reading this right, my brother is gonna be pretty ‘busy’ this evening, so don’t mind if I just mosey off and make myself scarce for now. Gotta get on with my busy schedule of finding whose bed I’m staying in tonight,” and Klaus, straightening his coat collar, turned to leave.

Before he could take more than a couple steps past the desks, though, Jake had jumped up, blocking him from leaving. “Wait! Wait, wait, wait, dude, if you don’t have a place to crash for the night, why don’t you stay on our sofa for now? I’m sure Amy won’t mind, do you, Amy?”

“Jake, I-”

“Aww, c’mon, it’ll be fun! And this way we can keep track of him until we get things worked out with the captain for him to be an actual consultant here.”

“Hey, is this consultant gig paid? Like, an actual job paid?” Klaus had that sideways grin back, and had grabbed handfulls of Jake’s jacket shoulders. 

“Hell yeah, man! I mean, once Captain Holt says it’s ok, but I’m sure he will.”

“You mean you’d let my brother do actual police work?”

“Well, civilian consultant work, but he’d get to do cool stuff like help us solve murders and hang out with everyone here, and we’re super cool.”

“It’d be an occasional thing, but yes, we do hire on special consultants for cases,” Rosa added.

“Then yes, yes I will work for you, Detective Peralta.” His eyes perhaps a little shinier than before, Klaus pulled a flailing Jake into yet another awkward hug, but this time he didn’t try to push the taller man away as soon, stiffly hugging him back. 

Breaking the silence that followed, Diego turned to Rosa, who’d put away the massive knife by then, with a smirk, “so. . . wanna go grab a drink?”

“Sure, I guess,” she shrugged. “Can you ride on the back of a bike?”

He gestured for her to lead the way out, “let’s go find out.”

“See ya, Jake, Amy,” and the two were gone. 

Extricating himself from the hug, Jake turned to scoop up his stuff from the desk before joining an already-packed Amy and the skinny, still-grinning man. “Ok, sleepover time, this is gonna be TOIT.” 

Suddenly, he froze. 

“Jake, what is-”

“Ames, we have a genuine ghost hunting team now-”

“-actually I’m more of a ouija board, ‘cause you know, the tats-”

“We’re the 99th precinct, paranormal division!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is set vaguely somewhere during Jake and Amy dating, but before the Peraltiago engagement, and after Rosa and Pimento broke up. Mostly I wanted Rosa and Diego to meet because 1) super intense knife-lovers, and 2) Diego is way sweeter and more stable than Pimento, and needs someone who'll stand up to his wild ideas, and these two would be great friends, at the least. 
> 
> Klaus deserves friends who can put up with his . . . everything, and give him a sense of purpose and something good to do with his abilities, and also be there to support and appreciate him and yeah, he and Jake needed to meet.

**Author's Note:**

> The opening I used: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UYVnbJ4Wox0
> 
> After the poetic elegance of Army Dreamers, writing this piece of ridiculousness was an adventure, and a couple of nights I just wrote to make myself get words up on the screen no matter what I was working on, so I hope you enjoyed this silliness.


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